


Spilled Blood and Shattered Ties

by spoonfuIIofsuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Assassin Oiks is so incredibly self indulgent, Fire Emblem inspired but diverges very quickly, Fire Emblem: Fates - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic-Users, Minor Character Death, Royalty, Slow Burn, get your carabiners ready for all these cliffhangers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoonfuIIofsuga/pseuds/spoonfuIIofsuga
Summary: Fate (noun): something that unavoidably befalls a person; fortune; lot: that which is inevitably predetermined; destiny: death, destruction, or ruin.Oikawa Tooru is not one to leave his future up to fate. However, when he finds himself in the middle of two kingdoms fighting a decade-long war, he has no choice but to let the red string of fate guide his way towards salvation.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, side pairings - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. You of the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Welcome to the conversion of two of my biggest interests: Haikyuu and Fire Emblem! Although this fic was inspired by Fire Emblem: Fates, I'm not going to be following the Fates plotline. That way, you don't need to be a FE fan to understand this story!
> 
> A MASSIVE thanks to my betas [sara](https://twitter.com/khalkacchan) and [jess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinso00/pseuds/shinso00) for your help on this! 
> 
> Also, another huge round of thanks to [ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrytreebridge/pseuds/cherrytreebridge) for constantly engaging in FE brainrot with me on twitter. Check out their new IwaOi fic when you have the chance!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or its content. All references used in this work are owned by Nintendo.

The dim light of an early spring morning breaches the confines of Oikawa’s room without his permission. In a poor attempt to prolong his beauty sleep for just a minute longer, he burrows under his fluffy comforter and basks in its warmth. Just as he thinks his plan is a success, Oikawa vaguely hears the door open and close to his chambers. 

_I wonder if I can manage to trick him today?_

“No, you cannot, Oikawa-sama.”

“Ugh,” Oikawa groans as he throws his overs further down his bed, “I thought I had a chance to have a free day, Aka-chan!”

Oikawa’s loyal butler and one of his best friends, Akaashi Keiji, remains punctual to a fault, much to Oikawa’s despair.

“You know I cannot allow that, Oikawa-sama. You cannot afford to take a day off of your training or lessons.” As Oikawa grumbles in disagreement, Akaashi ignores the man and moves towards Oikawa’s extensive wardrobe, picking out an outfit that will suit his tasks for the day.

“Aka-chan, did anyone follow you in here?”

“No, Oikawa-sama, I instructed the maids to begin getting your breakfast ready rather than following me to your chambers.”

After the official confirmation that the two of them are alone, Oikawa finally relaxes. “Kei-chan, where’s Makki? Is he nursing another monster hangover this morning?”

Akaashi chuckles lightly, his genuine laugh resounding like a twinkling bell throughout the large bedroom. “No, Tooru. He actually made his way to the training grounds early this morning to set up for the recruits.” Akaashi seemingly decides what outfit is appropriate for Oikawa’s duties that day and steps away from the wardrobe with dress robes in hand. 

Oikawa begrudgingly gets out of bed and walks up to his friend, draping his head on the raven-haired man’s shoulder and letting out one of his best whines. 

“Kei-chan, why do I need to go out there today? I’m so tired of parading myself around all of these royals and acting like something I’m not. I just want to stay in here and gossip with you and Makki! I feel like I barely recognize myself the second I walk through those doors.”

It’s true. Oikawa knows with full certainty that there are only two people in the entire kingdom of Shiratorizawa that he can trust with his life, and they are the only people he willingly trusted with the knowledge of his given name. The third and final individual graced with this knowledge is the king, but Oikawa never had the choice in that matter. 

Akaashi carefully maneuvers the dress robes into one of his arms and places the other on Oikawa’s fluffy, brown head—only making his incredible bed head worse. “I know, Tooru,” he says in almost a whisper, “but today the king called you in for a last-minute audience after breakfast, and we are already running behind, as it is.”

At the sudden announcement of a private audience with his guardian, Oikawa racks his mind about what they could be discussing. His last mission was over a month ago, and he had already recapped his progress and next steps with the king’s military advisors. The Spring Festival isn’t for another three weeks, and his birthday is months away.

“THE OLD GEEZER IS TRYING TO SELL ME OFF TO GET MARRIED, ISN’T HE?” Oikawa practically yells, startling Akaashi into knocking over a pitcher of water, dousing his all-black butler’s outfit. He places the pitcher of water down on the bedside table before swiftly making his way over to the frantic man. Placing both hands on his slim shoulders, Akaashi shakes Oikawa with all of his might.

“Tooru, you and I both know that _thankfully_ your position within the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa does not allow you to be used as a public bargaining chip for the Kingdom’s gain. Your influence and power lie in the shadows—it would be a foolish move to use you in a political marriage.”

Akaashi’s voice of reason helps stop Oikawa’s spiral in its tracks, allowing the butler to push the noble along in getting ready for the day.

After twenty long, grueling minutes of wrangling Oikawa into his navy dress robes, the duo is finally able to make their way to the main hall for breakfast. Oikawa opens the large, heavy double doors expecting to find the room empty at such an early hour. Instead of silence, they are met with raucous gripes and laughter stemming from the dining room.

“Goshiki! I told you a million times, yes, you can borrow my tomes, but _no,_ you cannot read them _over my shoulder_!”

“But Shirabu,” Goshiki whines, “how am I going to come up with my own super-powerful-amazing-earth shattering spell if I can’t hear all of the weird murmurs that escape your mouth as you read?”

A flash of light followed by a short burst of thunder and a short burst of thunder let Oikawa know that Goshiki was officially silenced. _But that won’t stop him from sneaking around trying to eavesdrop on Shirabu’s incessant muttering._

As Oikawa and Akaashi approach the table, other figures come into view. Shirabu and Goshiki are settled at the end of the table, most likely to give Shirabu the best chance of escape, if necessary. Strangely, the two have been friends since childhood, and even stranger that Prince Shirabu chose Goshiki to be his personal attendant and vassal a few years back.

Across from Shirabu and Goshiki sits Semi, looking increasingly uninterested in the childish feud occurring across from him, choosing instead to polish one of the many daggers tucked and hidden amongst his armor. The mercenary prefers to put out a cold and disinterested appearance, but the royal family considers him kin in the same manner they do Oikawa. They are all aware of his soft spot for the royal siblings, even if he covers it up with verbal jabs and light mockery.

Finally, Oikawa’s eyes glance to the opposite end of the table, where they meet a full head of red hair situated next to the overbearing presence of the Crown Prince of Shiratorizawa, Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

Tendou Satori is one of Shiratorizawa’s greatest enigmas. Few know exactly what goes on inside the Master of Whispers’ head, but Oikawa knows that it’s highly advised to remain on his good side. His intricate information system managed to entangle itself through almost every aspect of modern society, which puts him on par with the king himself strictly based on the breadth of their influence.

Maybe that’s why Ushijima grew so attached to the eccentric redhead. Since childhood, the two have been close friends, and the friendship validates that opposites _do_ attract, in Oikawa’s mind. 

The ever stoic, blunt, and analytical Ushijima Wakatoshi is the perfect choice as the heir to the kingdom. He exhibits everything the ideal Shiratorizawan tries to emulate—raw power, military might, and dependability. Sadly, however, that’s all he has to offer, personality-wise. The man has the charm of a brick and is practically impossible to gauge. Oikawa’s signature charm and wit consistently fall flat when it comes to the prince, which means there’s something wrong with _him_ , not Oikawa.

“Ah! Look, sleeping beauty decided to join us!” Tendou’s lilting voice draws everyone’s attention towards him; even Semi raised his head from his blades. Feeling the judgemental glares coming from his companions, Oikawa immediately slips into character. 

“Yahoo! Glad to see everyone was polite enough to wait for the guest of honor to arrive before eating,” he says with his trademark smile. Oikawa can just _feel_ Akaashi’s eyes on the back of his neck as the words leave his mouth.

Semi scoffs and turns his attention back to polishing his dagger. Goshiki offers an endearing wave in Oikawa’s direction and continues to raid through Shirabu’s tote, searching for a new magic tome he can annotate. As the chaos continues at the far end of the table, Tendou’s calculating eyes turn to slits as he makes eye contact with Oikawa, sending a shiver down his spine. 

Oikawa deduces the option that is ultimately safer for his _physical_ being and takes a seat by Ushijima, grabbing some pastry to eat on his way over. 

“So, Ushiwaka-chan, what’s on the agenda for today? Learning how to cripple your enemies with a single glare? Oh! Or are you finally meeting with the chief diplomats to learn the ins and outs of diplomatic friendships?” Oikawa’s teasing tone is blatantly apparent to anyone else, but Ushijima either doesn’t recognize it or doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“Nothing of the sort. I’m meeting with the king and his generals to deduce our next route of attack against Seijoh. Their attacks have become much less predictable, so the military advisors are intent on crushing their strongholds before they can make the first move.”

“Ah, Wakatoshi-kun, one day you really need to learn the delicate art of playful banter if you want to succeed in effective diplomacy,” Oikawa chides.

“Now, why would I do that when Shirabu is going to be my chief diplomat? He can teach me all I need to know about every noble I encounter.” The ask is genuine, which makes Oikawa feel _slightly_ bad about wanting to continue with the roast. Thankfully, Tendou steers the conversation away.

“So, Oikawa-kun, you seem to be quite interested in the daily proceedings of the crown prince, today. Why don’t you tell us what _you_ have on the agenda for the morning, hm?”

The sly advisor always knows which arm to twist. _That’s probably how he made it up the ranks with such ease_. He quickly regains his composure as he directs his attention at the other man.

“This morning, I have an audience with the king to discuss some important matters,” he says in a poor attempt to exude confidence. 

That tidbit of information seemed to pique Shirabu’s interest. He quietly put down his book before placing his chin in his hand, sending Oikawa his most smug look. “Now, what _exactly_ are these important matters, Oikawa? Don’t you think the king would have also filled in the princes on such topics during these pressing times?”

_You little shit,_. Shirabu is way too smart for his own good and never fails to use that intelligence to get under Oikawa’s skin.

Oikawa returns a smile with an equal amount of pettiness and says, “If I can be candid, I do not know. But I can assume that because he called _me_ in for an audience, he needs to utilize my specific _skill set_. If the king needs to inquire about how to best not offend some snobbish royals, I’m sure he will call to have you join us.”

At that ending remark, Shirabu _knows_ Oikawa put him in his place, which is only solidified by Goshiki altogether choking on a piece of toast. Oikawa, feeling ever smug at the lack of rebuttal, feels a firm hand placed on his shoulder. 

“Oikawa-sama,” is all Akaashi needs to say. 

Oikawa nods in agreement before saying his goodbyes to his peers and making his way towards the entryway. As he is but a few steps away from the door, Tendou slides in front of him, blocking his and Akaashi’s path.

Oikawa crosses his arms. “May I help you, Tendou?”

Tendou inquisitively looks towards the ceiling, finger on this chin as if he is deep in thought. “Well,” he proposes, “my grapevine has been awfully busy as of late and is bearing quite a bit more fruit than usual.”

_That’s never a good sign_. Oikawa and Akaashi offer a synchronized gulp.

“And what are you hinting at, Master of Whispers?”

Tendou leans in close to Oikawa’s ear, so even _his_ little birds are unable to eavesdrop. 

“I would humbly advise that you remain vigilant from here on out. And never forget, I’m but a whisper away.” He backs up and offers Oikawa a wink and a smile before traipsing himself back towards Ushijima, leaving Oikawa in as much of a state of fear as he is in a state of shock.

Oikawa now stands in front of the king’s audience chamber and takes a moment to steel himself before nodding to the herald, announcing that he is ready. The herald knocks twice on the center of the immense doors before opening them. He enters with Oikawa following close behind.

“Your Majesty, King Washijo Tanji of Shiratorizawa, may I present to you Sir Oikawa Tooru, Master of Shadows.” With that, the herald bows before leaving the room, leaving Oikawa to approach King Washijo alone.

“Your Majesty,” Oikawa says with his deepest bow, “I am deeply honored to be able to speak with you today.” He rises out of his bow and gets a look at the person awaiting him at the other end of the hall. 

Resting upon the ebony and purple throne atop a raised platform is King Washijo. For a relatively short man, the king has one of the most intimidating auras Oikawa has ever encountered. An ornate, black crown embellished with black and purple jewels remains entirely on his head, even as he leans his head on his hand with his elbow resting on the arm of the throne.

To his right is someone Oikawa was _not_ expecting to see. Daishou Suguru is the king’s right hand and is the seediest person Oikawa has ever had the _displeasure_ of meeting. The snake has become more and more present around the castle as of late and just exudes malevolence. Akaashi offered that the dark aura could be attributed to being a practicing Warlock, but Oikawa isn’t so sure.

“My Lord,” Oikawa offers retroactively, only to receive one of Daishou’s signature smirks that never fails to send a shiver down his spine.

“Oikawa,” the king’s raspy and deep voice calls, “we have much to discuss today.”

“And what would that be, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve received reports that your training has proved fruitful over your last few missions.”

After the recognition of his previous _successes_ on missions, Oikawa knows he needs to remain on guard. He is not proud of his prowess as a lead Black Ops team member, but it was a duty he was assigned, not offered.

Oikawa Tooru—ward of King Washijo, charmer of many, and next in line to lead the Shadow Operatives (AN: I kind of hate this name, I might change it later)—Shiratorizawa’s Black Ops Intelligence and Assassination team. He’s been training to succeed his predecessor from the ripe age of twelve, so now, at twenty-five, Oikawa should have anticipated the king’s curiosity about a definitive timeline.

“I do not deserve such praise, Your Majesty. I merely aim to serve the Shiratorizawan people to the best of my abilities.” _Lies._

“Now, now, Oikawa-kun,” Daishou hisses, “please don’t humble yourself. There is a reason you are first in line to be the next _kumicho_ of the Shadow Operatives. Your creativity and poise when it comes to _extinguishing_ your targets are impressive, to say the least.”

He clenches his fists, and the sharp feeling of his nails digging into his palms centers him before he says something he may regret.

“Your praise is appreciated, my lord,” he chokes out.

The king coughs to redirect all attention back to him. “As you may or may not know, tomorrow, Seijoh is concluding their two-week-long military conference wherein they most likely constructed alternate schemes to attempt to dismantle our military might.”

The air in the room settles as Washijo stares daggers into Oikawa’s very soul, immobilizing him from even offering a slight word of affirmation.

“As the final test of your progress before you advance, you are to infiltrate the Royal Compound of the Crown Prince of Seijoh and record any evidence you find denoting their new ploys.”

His extensive Shadow Operatives training has practically wiped any ability to generate fear from Oikawa’s brain. However, in this instance, the fear paralyzing Oikawa’s mind, body, and soul is one he has not felt since childhood—since the day his parents died fifteen years ago.

The fear is not coming from the mission itself. No, it stems from the possibility of what the king will do to him if he fails. This mission is not only a test of Oikawa’s abilities to infiltrate a foreign land, but also a test of his loyalty to the king—his dedication to completing a mission no matter the risk.

There’s a lot of logistics to consider, especially if the king expects him to complete this task as efficiently as possible.

Before he can spiral into the murky depths that is his train of thought, Oikawa speaks up. “I would be honored to complete this assignment on behalf of the kingdom, Your Majesty. However, may I ask some follow up questions before I head off to prepare?”

Daishou visibly scowls at Oikawa’s presumptuous act of questioning the king, but Washijo raises his hand, effectively silencing his attendant.

“You may proceed.”

“As for the timeline, I believe the highest chance of success lies in getting in and out of Seijoh before the conference officially concludes. With that in mind, I will need to leave the castle tomorrow morning, so I can effectively infiltrate the compound by dusk tomorrow.”

He waits for any sort of confirmation from the men in front of him but finds none, so he continues.

“To ensure speed as well as safety in case we encounter any conflict while en route, I have a single request for Your Majesty to allow me two companions—Akaashi Keiji and Hanamaki Takahiro. I believe their unique skill sets will greatly increase the success rate of this mission.”

A beat of silence passes. Then a second. Then the sound of fingers tapping on the durable metal of the throne reverberates through the hall.

“Your requests are approved,” the king says after what feels like hours, “you and your company shall depart at dawn tomorrow and return as soon as the mission is deemed complete. I am awaiting positive results.”

Oikawa bows, making sure to note Daishou’s displeased look and leaves the audience chamber. His mind is already reeling with plans and schemes and potential solutions to any adversity the trio may face during their time away from Shiratorizawa.

The next, and probably the most dangerous step in this entire endeavor, is to alert Keiji and Makki that they’ve been usurped from their daily tasks in order to help him once again.

~

The journey from the royal castle of Shiratorizawa to the heart of Seijoh is normally a half day’s journey when factoring in the usual interference. In Oikawa’s case, it seems that all of the usual bandit camps, feral forest animals, and perilous terrain decided to give his company a break and allowed them to arrive at Seijoh’s capital, Aoba Johsai, ahead of schedule.

After Akaashi so-eloquently handled booking a room in a local inn, Makki and Oikawa unroll their futons and settle down before talking through the logistics for the evening once more.

“Are you _positive_ that you can’t just dress up as a high-class courtesan and seduce your way into getting the plans? ‘Black Widow’ is a _much_ better title than ‘Master of Shadows’,” Makki offers while lying on his futon, legs akimbo for the entire world to see.

Oikawa ponders the thought _genuinely_ for a moment before responding. “Although I would _love_ to go down in history as a _femme fatale_ , I do prefer to keep my missions on the reconnaissance side of things rather than the, um… _other_ end of the spectrum.”

“Ugh, Oikawa, sometimes you can be so _boring_ ! Where is your lust for life? Your _joie de vivre?_ The fire under your ass? You’ve gotta learn to _live_ a little!” At this point, the wine has surely slithered its way into Makki’s bloodstream as the highly esteemed Vice Captain of the Guard’s robes fall from his shoulders as he shakes Oikawa’s shoulders for added emphasis.

A pointed, “ahem,” comes from the _extremely_ impatient Akaashi on the opposite side of the room. One stern look towards his two fool-hardy friends immediately resets the ambiance from pleasure to business.

Oikawa coughs into his fist slightly to regain his composure and reaches into his satchel to grab the well-concealed layout of the crown prince’s manor. The estate isn’t modest by any means, especially in comparison to the castle he calls home, but one could definitely get lost if they didn’t know exactly where to go ahead of time.

Makki and Akaashi gather on either side of him as he begins recounting his plan one last time. “As we speak, the royal family of Seijoh, as well as their trusted military advisors, are concluding a two-week forum to devise a new attack plan against Shiratorizawa. Prince Hajime is known to often confine himself in his private quarters or his study researching. To _my_ inconvenience, they happen to be on opposite sides of the estate.”

He points to two relatively large rooms on the map. To make matters even worse for Oikawa, there is but only one extremely wide hallway connecting the two rooms. If he makes the wrong choice as to what room to visit first, he will have little to no cover en route to the other room.

_Heavens above, I hope I made the right choice._

Makki slaps his back to wake him out of his trance, egging him to continue on.

“Right, at this rate, I need to ensure that I choose the correct room on the first try. One can assume that Prince Hajime would keep his important documents safe within the confines of his personal quarters, but I don’t think he is that predictable.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Akaashi inquires. 

“He means that Prince Hajime ‘isn’t like other princes,’ right Oiks?” Makki deserves the slap he receives from Akaashi for that one.

“Close, but not quite, dearest Makki. Prince Hajime is known to be diligent and poised at all times. However,” Oikawa sits up to his full height for emphasis, “no sane person would remain so put together when they are on their own. Their mind needs to reset and adjust due to the mental fatigue.”

Akaashi and Makki look at him with hints of concern and comfort flickering in their eyes. Oikawa’s correct in his assumption. The three of them _know_ this to be true as this is the battle Oikawa faces on a daily basis.

“Based on this assumption, I propose that our dear Prince Hajime is one to compartmentalize even in his alone time. He reserves his private quarters for solely rejuvenation and sleep but continues to research and prepare proposals from his study.”

He slams his finger on the map in front of him, directly in the center of the room marked “Prince’s study chambers.”

“This is where the battle schemes are, most likely strewn across a desk or tucked into the corner of a well-used book for safekeeping.” Makki and Akaashi _should_ be amazed at the speed at which Oikawa formulated his plan, but they were used to his genius status after all of this time.

They talked through all of the minor logistics—the entrance and exit points, escape maneuvers, checkpoints outside of the manner, as well as Makki’s and Akaashi’s reporting procedure if for some reason Oikawa cannot complete the mission.

Everything was set in place, the only thing left for Oikawa to do is gather his equipment and follow through with the actual infiltration.

Dusk falls over Aoba Johsai, signaling for Oikawa to begin making his move. He appraises his appearance once more before he leaves the confines of the inn. As to not rouse any suspicion, Makki somehow acquired some Seijohan clothing for him to wear until he arrives at the compound.

The robes were practically made for him. The main piece must have been constructed out of a fine, navy fabric as it looked perfectly tailored to his body type. The high-neck collar buttoned at the side, paired with the long, cuffed sleeves assisted in concealing any pieces of his combat armor underneath.

After confirming that all weapons and tools remained secure and snug against his body, Oikawa headed out into the evening on a “leisurely walk”, hoping to return before the chill of night settled in.

~

For acting as the official residence of Crown Prince Hajime, the heir to the Kingdom of Seijoh, the compound grounds of the estate are not exactly _secluded_. It sits in the corner of Aoba Johsai atop a slight hill. From the front gates, one has a stunning view of the entire capital, lamps, and windows of residences illuminating the evening like fireflies from this distance.

Oikawa follows a hiking trail up to the entrance of the estate with ease. Apparently, hiking to the palace to pay respects to the ruling family is a common pastime in the kingdom, so Oikawa never seems out of place. Just before he reaches the summit and the “public” entrance to the palace, Oikawa slips into the comfort of darkness in the surrounding forest.

He strips off his robes to reveal his armor. The pieces overall are simple, black fabric adorned with navy clasps to prioritize function in the shadows more than anything. He adjusts the navy-blue _obi_ securing his waist length robes to his figure. The chill of the evening air begins to settle in as Oikawa feels goosebumps form across his exposed chest. Ignoring the cold, he readjusts the leather cords securing the armored plates to his forearms, ensuring that his daggers and extra throwing knives are properly concealed underneath. Lastly, he refills his leather utility pouches on his thighs before bringing up his navy mask to hide the bottom half of his face.

Oikawa is actually quite fond of his work uniform, as missions tend to be the only time he is able to stay out of the soul-crushing limelight.

Once he confirmed that all of his tools are in their proper place, he advances towards the estate under the cover of night.

Oikawa swiftly traverses through the trees and arrives at the servants’ quarters at the farthest corner of the property. Without a sound, he scales the back wall and lands on the roof. From this height, he can see the entirety of the compound while meticulously positioning himself to remain completely hidden from any onlookers.

It would appear that the only civilians around are at the front of the estate, closest to the entrance. The building housing the prince’s chambers and study stands resolutely in the middle of the plot of land, practically equidistant from the surrounding buildings. Oikawa only has one chance to make the jump, land perfectly atop the adjacent roof, _and_ do it quietly enough to not alert any servants of his presence.

_Easy. What is that—ten, fifteen feet?_

Oikawa judges the distance once more before running forward. Just as he reaches the edge of the roof, he leaps. After about three seconds of hangtime, Oikawa deduces that he _may_ have miscalculated the jump. His right foot just barely grazes the shingles on the opposite roof, and he begins to fall. His quick reflexes _literally_ save his ass from falling as his hand shoots out, gripping the edge of the structure.

He sends out a silent prayer of gratitude for the height of the building because if it were any shorter, Oikawa’s 6’0 figure would be seen from the windows on the main floor.

Flittering voices approach from the left and Oikawa quickly clambers up to obscure himself from their line of sight.

After a few moments of silence to confirm that he, once again, remains hidden, he reorients himself before immediately securing a rope above the designated window and descending down. He pries the window open with ease before carefully entering the abandoned room.

_Perfect. Thank you, Makki, for actually finding an accurate blueprint of the palace and for making my life easier._

He closes the window and his mind transitions into autopilot as he makes his way toward the door. As the door opens, his body immediately knows which hallways would lead him directly to the study. He must have studied the map more than he initially thought because he’s hiding in alcoves and corners that one may not even know to exist.

He makes his way to the study in record time, thanks to his familiarity with the palace layout. He flicks his wrist to move a dagger from his armbands into his palm and steels himself as he approaches the heavy double doors.

Oikawa peeks around the corner only to immediately recoil, returning to his previous hiding space behind a large bookshelf.

“Prince Hajime will return a bit later than usual this evening.” A short, male servant with light brown hair seems to be enlightening two maids on the events of the evening, much to Oikawa’s displeasure.

“But Yuda-san, the council was supposed to end early tonight, correct? In preparation for tomorrow?” One of the maids looks to the other in confusion, but the boy, Yuda, laughs gently.

“Things never work out as we expect, Mai, but the Prince said he would return this evening and he is always true to his word.” The young man nods eagerly as to end the discussion and leads the two maids down the opposite end of the hall. Oikawa waits a few more minutes to confirm that he is alone once again before making his move back towards the doors.

He picks the lock within seconds with the help of his dagger and slides into the study with ease.

The study exudes an aura of nostalgia to Oikawa. He quickly reminisces on the long hours spent cooped up in the library back in the Shiratorizawan capital, finding solace and comfort in the hundreds of books and scrolls lining the walls. The warm mahogany bookshelves surround an ornate, matching work desk snug against the back wall.

Oikawa, blade still firmly in hand, approaches the far wall, only to find the desk and chair completely covered in books and papers.

Without disturbing the surface, he lets his eyes flit over the documents on the desk to get a gauge on Seijoh’s modified military campaign moving forward.

Oikawa, however, with all of his preparations and meticulously planned infiltration, did _not_ expect _this._

He expected to be met with recounting of Seijoh’s military victories, royal speeches and requests for military aid from allied tribes, or even annotated maps of the two nations.

But no, Oikawa only finds documents recounting trade meetings between Seijoh and clan leaders, retellings of Seijoh’s eras of peace, and even a heavily edited draft of what seems to be a diplomatic speech.

_Oh Gods,_ Oikawa reflects, _they aren’t preparing for a military assault at all._

He memorizes as much as he can in the next five minutes before swiftly exiting through the study window, assuring that no papers ruffle from his escape.

After closing the window, Oikawa ascends into the treetops to hurriedly make his way back to the inn as quickly as possible. Just as he is about to pass through the threshold of the estate entrance, he stops suddenly, two very distinct voices gluing him to his spot on a tree branch.

The hushed tone of a female voice steadily increases in volume as the two figures come into Oikawa’s field of vision. “…jime, everything should be in place for tomorrow evening, correct?”

_Jime…Prince Hajime…what is he doing with an unknown woman?_

“Of course, Mari-sama. The merchants have already set up in the town square and all ceremonial preparations have been rolled out. I’ll have the carriage arrive at your residence at sunset so we can arrive at the fountain in time.”

_What in the hell is this ceremony? If it’s anything like Shiratorizawa, then they must be rolling out their new military plan to the public tomorrow before making their way into enemy territory. This changes everything._

Nothing else of substance is said between the two companions and they head their separate ways with Prince Hajime and his turnip-headed attendant entering the palace grounds and the woman turning and walking away.

Try as he might, Oikawa is unable to identify any discernible features on the woman’s face. He does however unintentionally fixate on her long, flowing brown hair. Half of it is tied up in an intricate braided hairstyle with extravagant blue and silver hairpins, allowing the rest to cascade down her back in beautiful waves.

Oikawa’s stomach lurches suddenly and his mind blanks. He loses all recognition of his surroundings, his senses overcome with the calming scent of jasmine as he is transported back to his childhood bedroom.

_“You are the ocean’s gray waves, destined to seek, life beyond the shore—just out of reach.”_

Every night of his childhood, his mother would sneak into his room while he was sleeping and gently sing the same lullaby to him while combing her lithe fingers through his hair—the smell of her jasmine perfume coaxing him into a deeper slumber.

His parents died in a Seijohan raid fifteen years ago, and he tries not to mull on the memories of his family when they arise. However, in this case, he hasn’t thought about his mother in months—maybe this is divine judgment for not tending to their personal shrine in his chambers as often as he should.

By the time Oikawa shakes himself out of his daze, both parties have vacated the area. He regains his composure and continues on his journey back to the inn, a longing feeling tugging him back towards the palace as if he has some sort of unfinished business.

He approaches the designated meet up spot and sees Makki schmoozing outside of an izakaya. Two men have their arms draped over his shoulders as he pours them what seems to be another round of sake. Oikawa rolls his eyes but knows that he should not have expected any less from Makki’s version of a cover story. “Method acting at its best,” as he claims.

Oikawa whistles their signature bird call signal from his position in the trees and notices Makki’s shoulders tense slightly. He skillfully slips out from underneath the other men’s arms and bids them adieu before walking towards the tree line. Makki throws his satchel into the brush with Oikawa catching it with ease. He throws on the spare clothes with haste and leaves the safety of the forest in no time. The two friends act as if nothing is out of the ordinary, both looking forward to discussing Oikawa’s coded findings with Akaashi when they return to the inn. 

The trio rise at varying times of the morning, per usual. Akaashi, ever the early bird, woke up at sunrise to prepare for their departure. Makki chose to sleep in a bit more, but woke up mid-morning and headed off on a quick run around Aoba Johsai. Oikawa, thanks to his kind and considerate travel companions, finally wakes up around noon, still wrapping his mind around the events of the night prior. 

Oikawa grumbles and grunts at Akaashi’s lack of attempts to remain quiet and finally stretches himself awake. 

“Good morning, Oikawa-sama. How noble of you to finally join us,” Akaashi greets in a monotone. 

Before Oikawa can grunt in protest, Makki bursts through the door in a huff, still red from his run.

“Have you guys looked out the window?” The two other men shake their heads in silence.

“Come on over then!” He rushes to the window and opens the blinds fully with Akaashi and a groggy Oikawa in tow. The three men squeeze together to look out over the square. Instead of the open area scattered with a few patrons, the entire town center is filled to the brim with merchant stalls, families, and children, and laughter.

_This must be what Prince Hajime was alluding to last night._

The trio take in the scene for a bit longer before they all decide that it would be best to experience the day’s activities and “report back any important findings to the king. For science.”

They slip on their Seijohan clothing and head out into the square, completely overwhelmed by the exuberant energy of the town. The day passes quickly—Oikawa attempts to shop at every clothing stall while making friends with the shopkeeps, Makki scares the daylights out of Akaashi with a _hannya_ mask he borrowed from a child, and Akaashi indulges himself in the delightful confectioneries offered around the town. Overall, it was the perfect day to forget the _real_ reason they were visiting the kingdom.

As evening fell, Oikawa noticed an influx of children walking towards the center of the plaza, all with flowers and toys in tow. He subconsciously follows them and is met with a beautiful sight. The children take turns laying their gifts at the foot of an incredibly ornate fountain. The water is scattered with cherry blossom petals, almost completely covering the water’s surface. The orange and gold of the sunset cast a warm glow on the fountain, the petals appearing to be cast in pure amber.

Rising from the center is a statue of who Oikawa can assume is the former king. The figure is dressed in relatively simple clothes, but the detail in the fabric’s filigree must have been time-consuming for the artist. As he moves up the figure, Oikawa’s eyes are drawn to the soft, gentle face of the king. The wrinkles present must not have been from stress or age but seem to be the result of decades of smiling and laughter. His eyes are soft, wistful even, matching the tender smile on his face.

The most prominent element of the statue is the king’s right hand. It’s outstretched towards the entrance to the square. The palm of the hand is slightly tilted, but faces the sky, almost as if he _personally_ is welcoming his subjects home from their long days.

A soft hand on his shoulder once again knocks him out of his daze. He turns around to find Akaashi’s questioning features. Oikawa shrugs it off as if it’s nothing just as the band quiets down. The townspeople gather round in a large circle surrounding the center fountain. Makki and Akaashi lead Oikawa into the middle of the crowd so as to not rouse any additional suspicion.

The three men do not need to wait long as the ceremony begins shortly after the main guests arrive. Oikawa’s eyes grow as wide as saucers as he sees Prince Hajime and who he can assume to be “Mari-sama” approach the statue. They are each wearing relatively modest and simple garb, with very little delineating them from the subjects. Mari walks ahead of the Prince and Oikawa questions why the citizens of Seijoh bow to her so quickly. Makki must have seen his confusion as he clears things up.

“That’s the Queen Regent—Mari-sama. Since she was unable to rule when her husband died fifteen years ago, she now acts as the figurehead of the nation while King Iwaizumi, the former aid to the late king, is in charge.”

“Oh,” is all Oikawa can muster. He once again sees her wavy, brown hair and feels a similar stab in his stomach. He shakes it off once more so he can pay proper attention to the ceremony. The two royals approach the fountain and are handed two ornate bouquets.

The Queen Regent steps forward, silencing the crowd. “My brothers and sisters, thank you for taking the time to gather here today in honor of my late husband, your king.”

_This is a memorial service?_

“Fifteen years ago, my husband’s life was taken from us much too soon. He was a king that treasured the peace and prosperity of Seijoh above all else. To him, you all were his children. However, today is not a day to wallow and mourn. No, today we celebrate his life and pray for the prosperity of the future for us all.”

A slow roar of cheers and claps litter the audience as the Queen Regent turns back to face Hajime. “We all lost someone special to us all of those years ago. To me, I lost a husband and a son. To you, the people of Seijoh, you lost your king and your heir. Today, we honor their lives and honor our past so we can look towards the future without remorse.”

The crowd erupts into cheers and slight sobs as each citizen honors their late king and prince. Mari gently places her husband’s bouquet at the foot of the fountain just as Prince Hajime steps forward.

The Queen’s speech was entrancing, truly. Oikawa was drawn to her words like moth to flame. At some point during her presentation, he subconsciously moved forward from his spot in the middle of the crowd, and Akaashi was unable to draw him back. Now, he rests toward the front, with an almost perfect view of the ceremony in front of him.

Hajime’s bouquet is much smaller than the king’s but is equally as ornate. He looks down at the arrangement in his hands fondly before speaking.

“As many of you know, I spent the early years of my life in the constant presence of the prince. We were basically connected at the hip, much as young children are.” He scans through the crowd, completely relaxed and at ease in front of such a large audience. He makes eye contact with dozens of his subjects but freezes as green eyes meet a familiar brown. Oikawa locks eyes with the prince and feels his mind go fuzzy as if it’s trying to grab onto a memory that is no longer there.

“Hajime, what’s wrong?” Mari walks over to Hajime and places a comforting hand atop his shoulder. The prince remains silent, frozen in place with eyes never leaving Oikawa’s. The queen follows his eye line and her face goes slack as she reaches her destination. Oikawa’s feeling of dissociation intensifies once more as he finally gets a look at the queen’s gentle, kind face and her wide, chocolate eyes—much like his own.

Seconds of silence feel like hours until one word shatters the moment.

“T—Tooru?” The queen mutters to herself and Hajime, but Oikawa hears it clear as day.

He can only whisper, “…mother…,” before he blacks out and falls to the ground limp.


	2. You of the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back with chapter two!
> 
> Another MASSIVE thanks again for my betas [Sara](https://twitter.com/khalkacchan/) and Jess for not only keeping me sane but also grammatically correct throughout this whole fic. 
> 
> Also, thank you to [Moni](https://twitter.com/monsweirdo/) for your amazing graphics for this fic!! They turned out absolutely amazing so I cannot thank you enough!
> 
> Follow me on[twitter](https://twitter.com/spoonfuIlofsuga) to see more IwaOi brainrot and other anime/manga content—I hope you all enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Any and all comments and kudos are appreciated :-)

_A warm breeze envelops Tooru and carries him forward, like a firm hand guiding him ahead by the small of his back. He’s lost in a sea of wildflowers—the buds and grass grazing and tickling his thighs through his yukata. The earth is bathed in a wash of orange, purple, and red from the petals, the glow of the autumn sky seemingly melting past the confines of the horizon._

_“Tooru-chan!” A familiar voice leads him ever forward—the taut string of fate bringing him home. Tooru’s hand is extended, reaching for the palm that fits perfectly in his._

_His head turns, finding a figure in the distance, beckoning him over. He runs. He_ has _to. His feet swiftly carry him towards the other, but the distance never lessens. Tooru wants. He wants to return to the other’s side—feeling like his heart will become whole once again. No, not just his heart, his entire being._

_Suddenly, cold, bony hands wrap around his neck and mouth, pulling him away from his light and into the cold, damp darkness. Black and purple mist surround him, weaseling its way into his lungs, suffocating him slowly._

_The hands multiply, tugging him back into the murky depths much faster, leaving Tooru unable to fight against their crippling hold. The figure is too far away now, completely out of Tooru’s reach. In one last move of desperation, Tooru screams._

_“IWA-CHAN!”_

_After the name crosses his lips, helplessly succumbs to the darkness._

Oikawa jolts awake—head pounding, and body drenched in sweat. He’s awake and alive and presumably safe. Why does he still feel like he’s drowning in the depths of the murky, black smoke from his dream? 

His heart continues to beat out of his chest while his hands claw at the bedsheets, grasping for _something_ that can effectively ground him and bring him back to reality. He looks to his left, hoping to find the jasmine oil he keeps by his bedside for emergencies, only to find an unrecognizable side table instead.

Flustered and confused, Oikawa looks down at the entanglement of sheets underneath him, finding soft, silken sheets paired with a warm comforter decorated in a traditional eastern print.

The more Oikawa looks around the room, the more frantic he becomes. His breath becomes more labored as it climbs steadily to resemble panicked wailing. His head pounds, unable to fabricate a single coherent thought. Just as he feels the final wave of madness wash over him, the sliding door of his chambers fly open, revealing two strange men.

Oikawa can barely focus on judging their appearances before the rather apathetic looking one makes his way to the bedside. His companion, a rather frantic fellow with vertical hair resembling a turnip, flusters at his side.

“Kunimi,” Turnip-kun cries, “what’s happening? Is he okay? Oh Gods, what if the fall did something to him? What if—”

“Kindaichi. Go away.” _Ah, so pretty boy Kunimi-chan wears the pants here, interesting._

Before Oikawa can think any more on the dynamics of the men in front of him, a glass of water is shoved into his hand. He looks up to see this, Kunimi-chan, grinding herbs into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle. Once they reach his desired consistency, he places his hands over the bowl and closes his eyes in prayer and meditation.

Oikawa locks eyes with Turnip-kun who gives him a slight nod, letting him know to trust the healer. After said healer recited the necessary incantation, the herbs now possess a slight luminescence, indicating their newly cultivated healing properties. Kunimi motions for the glass of water and gently deposits the herb mixture in with the liquid.

He stares at the glass in his hand tentatively before Kunimi speaks up. “It’s not going to harm you. I was sent here on someone else’s orders, not of my own free will. And if I wanted to kill you, I would have left you here to rot with your fever and muscle spasms.”

The last sentence was said with a tone consisting of apathy and confidence—a confusing mix that only made the monk in front of him even more terrifying.

The green drink suddenly looked much less treacherous as he downed the glass in one go. Bitterness danced across his tongue as he swallowed, Kindaichi cringing in empathy as if he knows both sides of Kunimi’s torment.

After a few seconds, Oikawa feels ten times better. As the two men prepare to leave his quarters, he calls after them. “Wait, please, where am I?” Kunimi and Kindaichi glance at each other in a silent question before the taller speaks up.

“Oikawa-sama.” _Sama? Why the honorific?_ “What do you remember?” Kindaichi’s eyebrows are raised in curiosity, but a tentative look remains on his face.

Oikawa tries to organize the jumbled thoughts inside his brain but fails miserably. “All…all I remember is,” his head begins to pound once again, “Mari-sama’s speech. Then, I remember muted voices clouding my head and my vision blurring. I—I remember…” The only thing Oikawa _actively_ remembers is his desire to find the strange figure from his dream. It’s borderline discombobulating—knowing you belong with someone but not knowing who that person is. 

A delicate hand rests on his shoulder. “Someone will be in soon to explain everything,” Kunimi says, “until then, you need to rest. Treasure it while it lasts.”

“What do you me—”

Before Oikawa can even attempt to finish his thought, the door furiously slides open once again.

“Yo, what’s cookin’ good lookin—” Before Makki finishes his poor attempt at a greeting, Akaashi rushes past him and slams into Oikawa’s waiting chest. He wraps his arms around his distraught friend and rubs his back in soothing patterns, choosing to ignore the wet spots forming on his shoulder.

Makki walks over to Oikawa’s bedside and sits at the foot of the bed. He offers a few comforting pats to his good knee. “Thanks for coming back to us, Oiks. I don’t think I could have handled Akaashi on my own for much longer.”

Softs harrumphs come from the raven currently latched onto Oikawa’s chest, but everyone knows they aren’t _completely_ malicious.

At this point, the three reunited friends effectively forget that they are _not_ in fact alone in the room until they hear the door slide shut. Akaashi raises his head at the sound, looking around the room with his red-rimmed eyes. The three lock eyes before immediately erupting into laughter.

They sit like that for who knows how long—reveling in each other’s presence after hours of being separated. Finally, Oikawa speaks up.

“Makki, Kei-chan, what happened at the ceremony?”

Makki looks at Akaashi whose hand is still holding onto Oikawa’s like it’s the only thing tethering him to this plane of existence. After seeing how utterly fragile their cornerstone of a friend is, Makki begins recounting the events.

Taking a deep inhale, Makki begins. “You started acting weirder than usual during the queen regent’s speech. Slowly, you began to walk forward through the crowd, but Keiji and I couldn’t get a strong enough hold on you to bring you back to our spot. You wouldn’t listen to us either—it was like you recognized our voices but couldn’t register our words.”

Makki’s hold on Oikawa’s leg tightens slightly as Akaashi repositions his head on Oikawa’s right shoulder. Oikawa knew he wasn’t acting like himself at the ceremony, but actually _hearing_ about his behavior is a different thing, entirely.

_Now Akaashi’s reaction makes a bit more sense._

“By the end of Mari-sama’s speech, you managed to weasel your way up to the front of the crowd. I don’t know _how_ your lanky ass managed to do that without getting shoulder checked by a teenager, but I digress. Things got scary right after she placed the flowers in front of the statue. You got this… _look_ —or maybe I should say a lack thereof.”

Makki’s newfound serious aura is one that Oikawa has never witnessed in their twelve years of friendship. The smile lines permanently framing his mouth have smoothed over and his eyes replaced their usual light with a numbed gaze.

“When Prince Hajime stepped forward to begin his piece, your eyes widened, and you started reciting this…incantation? It sounded familiar, like that lullaby you sometimes sing, but you started…glowing?”

Oikawa’s head cocks in confusion just as Akaashi speaks up. “There was this, _air_ about you—literally. There was a soft blue glow around you and your hair was moving as if you were caught in a small breeze.”

Makki nods in agreement. “The next thing we know, you and the prince are exchanging some _real_ intense eye contact and you fall to the ground like a rag doll.”

The memory is hazy—almost like recounting an extremely vivid dream—but Oikawa knows the events to be true. He squeezes Akaashi closer in a slight apology for the excessive worry.

Akaashi removes himself from Oikawa’s side and brushes himself off before finishing up the story. “Both Makki and Prince Hajime jumped to attempt to catch you as you fell. Makki got you but um, he wasn’t quick enough. You hit your head on the ground and you haven’t come to until now.”

_What do they—_ Oikawa sits up straight in bed.

“Akaashi, what day is it?” The question was not a friendly request.

Silence hangs in the air, the sound of a flickering candle almost symphonic in comparison to the suffocating atmosphere.

Akaashi mumbles something in his hand.

“Pardon?” Oikawa’s voice was quiet but pointed, and Akaashi flinched as if a needle pressed against his skin.

“It’s early afternoon the day after the ceremony. You’ve been asleep for almost a full day, Tooru.”

With that knowledge, the hurricane within Oikawa’s head stirs once again, a cacophony of thoughts whirling around his head leaving only destruction in its wake.

They were supposed to be back in Shiratorizawa by now. Unless Makki and Akaashi sent notice of the mission’s success before they attended the ceremony, the king _must_ deem this mission— _his_ mission—a failure. The credibility that took _years_ to gain, crushed suddenly.

He grips his head in the dire hope that the physical pain would effectively draw his attention from the intrusive thoughts, but Oikawa only feels his inner demons dragging him deeper and deeper into his internal hell.

He knows his friends are calling his name, grabbing at his wrists to pull him back to reality, but Oikawa knows of one thing that can bring him back.

“Iwa-chan.” A whisper so soft it’s almost a prayer of yearning rather than a request. The cry quickly turns into a mantra, Akaashi cradling his head and brushing tears away with his thumbs.

The sense of failure is numbing, but not due to its status as the antithesis of success and pride, but due to its close proximity to the resurgence of suffocating loneliness.

During Oikawa’s early years in Shiratorizawa, he knew two things—failure and heartbreak. Everything he’s gained, everything he _has_ , he gained through success. Winning and becoming the best was the only route to salvation for a ten-year-old.

And now? He feels like the other shoe has dropped like _they_ finally succeeded in prying the façade of confidence from his shaking fingers. Oikawa feels the burn of the purple and black mist once more cascading up his arms until suddenly, everything stops.

The hurricane is put to rest, the pounding in his head recedes, and his breath evens once again. After gaining some semblance of calm, Oikawa looks up.

He is no longer cradled in Akaashi’s arms. Instead, his head is resting upon Mari-sama’s chest, slowly moving up and down with every intake of breath. Her long, graceful fingers card through their matching brown waves, adding just the right amount of pressure. He inhales deeply to match his breath with hers and relaxes farther into her hold as he is overcome with the soft, subtle, and nostalgic smell of jasmine.

At that moment, he knew. He _knows_ , but Oikawa now thinks he must have always known—there was just _something_ blocking him from accessing that part of his memory.

“Mother.”

At that moment, everyone in the room took a collective gasp. Oikawa opens his eyes and finds his two companions as well as the Crown Prince and the healer, Kunimi, looking back at him in shock.

It seems that the only person that was _not_ shocked was the Queen Regent. Oikawa’s head jostles slightly with her soft laughter, her hand stilling in his hair for just a moment. Their eyes meet once more as he raises to sit next to her. The same, lithe hand that was just in his hair cups his cheek gently, in the same manner, one would attempt to grasp something delicate—almost intangible.

“Welcome home, Tooru, my darling boy.”

The sentimental moment is cut short by the crown prince.

Oikawa and Mari look over to the royal only to find him sobbing into his hands. Akaashi and Makki remain frozen in place, unsure of how to handle the situation while Kunimi continues to put away his healing instruments, almost unphased at the situation.

Mari motions for Oikawa to scooch in further on the bed, making room on the other side of his mother. She opens her left arm, beckoning Hajime to join. He wipes his tears and takes his rightful spot in her arm and leans up against the backboard.

She kisses Hajime’s head before placing a loving and lasting kiss on Oikawa’s forehead, almost breathing him in to convince herself that her son is real and, in fact, back in her arms.

Sounds of clothing rustles against the silky fabric come from the opposite side of the bed, six eyes fixating on an uncomfortable Makki and a neutral Akaashi, tilting his head slightly in question. Mari smiles at the men before sitting up in bed.

“I believe you all deserve an explanation, hm? Hajime,” the crown prince startles at the sound of his name like he was just snapped out of a daze. “Sweetie, why don’t you start with your story and clue the other boys into your relationship with Tooru.”

The association between his given name and the word _relationship_ sent Oikawa’s face aflame. Thankfully, Makki and Kunimi’s pointed laughter was split amongst the two men, each fidgeting in the increasing discomfort.

Hajime coughs once and stands up. His face and shoulders are tense, hesitant almost. Spiky black hair appears mussed from constant pulling, and there is a subtle red line down the center of his face, as if he’s rubbed his hand down it one too many times.

Oikawa further scans the prince’s face, only for him to lock eyes with him for the first time since the ceremony. The two remain that way for mere moments, but in those moments, Oikawa’s senses and memories muddle and combine with those from decade’s past.

The prince takes a deep breath and begins telling his story.

“Tooru and I grew up together. At the time, his father, King Tora, ruled and my father was his right hand. Due to their constant proximity, it was just natural for Tooru and I to spend almost all of our time together.

If we weren’t at the main palace, terrorizing the staff or Mari-sama with our pranks, we were roaming the halls of this estate—my childhood home.”

_Oh. That’s why the hallways felt so familiar the other night._

Hajime continues his story, his eyes never leaving Oikawa’s.

“Fifteen years ago, there was a festival happening in town and you and I planned to head down and scope it out. But, um…”

Hajime pauses, face pained while he recalls the memory.

“We got into a fight. I’m not sure if you remember what it was about—I sure as hell don’t. But you and I were both known for being dramatic little shits, so I stayed home to pout while you went to the festival.”

Hajime finally looks away, fists clenched and huffing in anger. He didn’t need to continue on with his story—everyone in the room had an inkling of what happened that evening.

“It’s alright, Hajime,” Mari says, consoling the 25-year-old more like a child than the next in line for the throne.

“Well, I guess it’s my turn to spin my tale and tell you a bit about your father, Tooru.”

She grabs Oikawa’s hand, gently rubbing her thumb over his palm.

“Your father was a wise man despite his years. He was a diligent ruler—assuring to weigh every option and every potential solution before taking action. He was respected by his people and other rulers. He prided himself in being king but before _all_ of that,” she pauses as her soft, sentimental smile reaches her eyes.

“Before all of that, he was a father first. You were his world, Tooru, just as you’re mine.” She kissed his palm and Oikawa felt tears threatening to break loose once again.

“On the afternoon you were taken, your father and I were on our way to a meeting with the Karasuno Wind Tribe to speak on a trade agreement. We were walking through the gardens when one of the couriers approached with an urgent notice for your father. Once the courier left, I knew something had happened. Your father was always smiling, but at this moment, his stoicism was concerning.

He trusted me enough to allow me to handle the trade deal with Karasuno on my own, and he promised me that he would return by sunset.”

Mari’s voice wavered at the last word. Oikawa squeezed her hand once in support as Akaashi and Makki silently offered theirs.

“Once the meeting concluded, it was early afternoon. I assumed you were with Hajime at the festival, so you can imagine how shocked I was when I spoke with his father to find out that our dear sons were both having temper tantrums and split off.”

Hajime grunts as Kunimi snickers lightly.

_I guess he never grew out of his stubborn nature._ Makki slaps Oikawa’s leg, “Like you don’t act like a spoiled brat on a daily basis, Oiks.”

“Makki, I’ll have you know I’m a perfect angel! Don’t be rude in front of my mother!” 

He pouts as his mother pats his head. “Oh honey, don’t fret! It’s comforting to know that you haven’t changed after all of these years.”

“Mother!”

“Oi, Tooru,” Hajime scolds, “are you going to let her finish or are you just going to keep being a baby?”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!”

Mari laughs at the familiarity of the exchange before patting Oikawa’s hand, letting him know there is more of the story to tell.

“After my talk with Iwaizumi-san, I minded my time to keep my mind at ease. As dusk came and went, I was shaking with nerves and emotions. Your father was a man of his word—in all of my years of knowing him, he _never_ broke a promise.

I ran to the Iwaizumi estate and asked everyone I encountered if they knew of your or your father’s whereabouts. No one had an answer. I was on the verge of hysterics when Iwaizumi-san found me, crying outside his chambers begging to see my husband and child.

He consoled me to the best of his abilities when Hajime walked into the room with a parchment in his hand. It had been posted at his door with a throwing knife foreign to our lands. The letter contained only two words…”

“Irresistible force,” Hajime finished, “the motto for Shiratorizawa.”

Oikawa’s blood ran cold. All self-awareness dissipated—only the sound of his rapidly beating heart reaching his ears. He tried to recoil inward, but his mother’s gentle hold on his hand inhibited him from doing so. Akaashi placed a comforting hand on his back, but Oikawa was unsure who needed the comfort more in that moment.

“They used me,” Oikawa chokes out. “I was just a…a _bargaining_ chip for them!”

Emotions cloud his thoughts—merging and melting into one another to the point that they were indistinguishable. Rage, anger, betrayal, loneliness—they are one and the same at this point.

“They…they told me my parents were _murdered,_ all so it was easier to _use_ me! Against my family!” He was fully spiraling now. 

The last fifteen years of his life have been a lie.

Oikawa saw red. His heart threatens to beat out of his chest, and he can hear his elevated pulse in his head. All moisture in his mouth immediately evaporates, leaving his constricting throat even more uncomfortable. As the walls of the room seem to cave in, Oikawa jumps up from his spot on the bed and runs toward the door—no destination in mind except _out._

He needs to get _out._ He needs the space to _think_ and _realize_ and wake up from this absolute _nightmare_. He throws open the door and scrambles through the hallways, mindlessly praying the fresh air will quell the incessant heat emanating from his skin.

As he crosses the threshold, he immediately falls to the grass, body shaking from lack of oxygen.

Oikawa feels the last shred of his sanity withering away—the annoying loose thread unraveling his psyche at a rapid pace.

_Who even am I? Do I even have a_ right _to be called Tooru anymore? After all of the pain I’ve caused them?_

He claws at the grass underneath him, grasping at anything to bring himself back to reality. His mind centers for one moment and the thoughts clouding his mind only scare him more.

_What method of interrogation in my arsenal could get me the answers I crave from Shiratorizawa? What Shadow Operative has not only the tenure, but skillset to accomplish an assassination_ and _kidnapping mission?_

A sudden pressure rests on Oikawa’s shoulder, feeling more like a chemical burn than a symbol of comfort. He shoves the calloused hand back and cradles his legs in his arms, finding himself a fraction calmer in the strained effort of becoming _so_ small, he disappears completely.

Two gentle hands wrap around his, massaging out tension from the inside of his wrists. They feel warm, familiar and he immediately knows who’s sitting in front of him.

Akaashi takes Oikawa’s right hand and places it over his heart, all while keeping a steady hold on his other wrist. “Tooru, _Tooru_ —count with me.” Akaashi slows his breathing and assists his friend in counting the beats with each intake and exhale of breath.

Slowly—very slowly—life returns to Oikawa’s eyes and the weight lifts off his chest. He looks up at Akaashi, vision clouded by tears once more.

“Kei-chan…” Akaashi cups his cheeks and whispers sweet assurances that he is, in fact, safe and okay. Oikawa finally is able to take in his surroundings. His back is currently supported by one of the many trees he previously used to infiltrate the estate a few days prior. Akaashi sits on his haunches directly in front of him, steely blue eyes unwavering. 

Once he feels like he has some semblance of control of himself, Oikawa’s eyes follow a cobblestone path, only to be met with Makki’s back turned towards him, holding back an uncharacteristically frantic Hajime. The prince’s hands grip Makki’s arms with such force that Oikawa is concerned he unintentionally drew blood.

“Tooru.” Oikawa ignores Akaashi and looks up to Hajime’s concerned, green eyes. There’s _more_ stirring up in their depths but is unable to determine what exactly is leaving him so uneasy.

Oikawa and Akaashi spend the next few minutes coaxing his heart rate back down as Makki gets a better hold on the Prince. Oikawa sees the two men talking, Hajime’s posture slowly relaxing, but their hushed tones divulge nothing of their conversation.

After a few more minutes of regulating their emotions, Akaashi helps Oikawa stand up from his place against the tree. He squares his feet underneath him, but his legs give out as he attempts to stand at his full height. The scene around him blurs and reverts as he grips onto Akaashi’s shoulder for support. Just as he thinks something may be wrong with him, one sound clues him in on the issue.

A cacophony of hunger pangs roar from Akaashi, Makki, and Oikawa’s stomachs, reminding them that they haven’t eaten for almost a full day.

Finally, the tense air breaks with a deep, rasping chuckle coming from the Prince. “Damn, you should have mentioned you were hungry—we may be enemies on paper but you’re still our guests. Come on, I’ll show you all to the dining hall.”

He detaches himself from Makki and waits for Akaashi and Oikawa to catch up, hunger and mental fatigue slowing them down. As they reach the other two men, Oikawa quickly falls into step with the prince. 

“Looks like Iwa-chan grew out of his brutish tendencies in the time I was gone,” the words flew off his tongue without a second thought. Hajime punches Oikawa lightly in his shoulder rather than granting him a response. 

“I guess I was wrong,” Oikawa says while rubbing his shoulder. 

The group walks in silence until they reach a small building on the side of the compound. Aromas of foreign spices and roasting game waft from behind closed doors, and they only intensify as Hajime welcomes them into the dining pavilion. 

The entrance is positioned directly in the middle of the wall, and there are small tables evenly dispersed on either side of them. The open kitchen is directly across from them on the back wall, and the sight of the freshly prepared food only adds to Oikawa’s hunger. 

Hajime places a firm hand on his upper back, leading him further into the hall. “Here, you guys so find someplace for all of us to sit and I’ll have some servants bring over your meals. Oi, Shittykawa, are you even listening?”

Oikawa hears Akaashi’s polite laugh and Makki’s overbearing cackle from behind him as he snaps to attention. “Of course, Iwa-chan! I’ll go and bewitch the castle attendants with my alluring looks and charm while you partake in the manual labor. Onward! Mush!” Hajime grumbles but heads towards the kitchen without instigating any further bickering. 

Seemingly pleased with the result of the interaction, Oikawa pulls Akaashi and Makki with him to an open rectangular table on the right of the room. They sit down and suddenly, all of the mental fatigue hits the trio at once. They slump down on the chairs, only to be shocked into proper posture by someone joining them on the opposite side of their table. 

“So _you’re_ the infamous Oikawa Tooru.” Oikawa looks up to see a child—no—a young man with an innocent face, sitting across from him. The man definitely _looks_ young, despite his obvious efforts in grooming himself to appear older. His chin rests on his palm, eyebrow lilting upward signaling, “it’s your move.” He knows how to deal with this type of brat thanks to his years of practice handling Shirabu the menace. 

“Oh?” Oikawa inquires. “That depends on who is asking.” 

“Oh no, now this won’t do,” the young man teases. “You’re saying you don’t recognize me? I know fifteen years is quite a long time but to think you would forget the young boy you were once _so_ attached to!”

_What kind of spoiled jackass—wait._

A name without coinciding memories appears in Oikawa’s head. Although he may not remember the specific events, Oikawa recalls a time long passed when he would spend his evenings with his childhood friend and his younger, adorable brother. The small boy was so full of light and happiness, but it can’t be—

“Shigeru?”

Apparently, that was the right answer, as Shigeru starts to slowly clap. “Bravo! Glad to see that you didn’t lose _all_ of your brainpower during your time with those _savages_.” 

Oikawa could almost _feel_ the poison dripping from Shigeru’s tongue as the last word passed his lips. He clenches his fists in a poor attempt to contain his emotions. It’s not like he _chose_ to spend his time in Shiratorizawa, but it’s where he met Makki and Akaashi—and Oikawa will _never_ let someone speak ill of his family so easily. 

“Oh no, cat got your tongue? So sad to hear they took your free will, too.”

“Oi, Shigeru. Enough.” Oikawa looks behind him to find Hajime walking towards their table with their food—a rugged, blond man close behind with additional trays in his arms. 

Shigeru snaps out of his jerk persona at the sight of his older brother. “Nii-san, you’re usually in your study at this time.” _Covering his tracks? Little prick._

Hajime and the blond place the extensive spread on the table, “something else came up. I’m glad to see you two getting reacquainted at least.” He sits at the head of the table, almost on instinct, next to Oikawa. Blondie sits on the opposite side of Shigeru, but not without knocking him upside the head on his way to his chair. 

“Apologies for my brother,” Hajime starts. “Akaashi-san, Hanamaki-san, this is my younger brother, Prince Yahaba Shigeru, and his retainer, Kyoutani Kentarou.” 

Kyoutani grunts at the other men, determining that it is a proper contribution to the conversation. Shigeru offers a polite smile and nod to Akaashi and Makki, making his avoidance of Oikawa increasingly obvious. Oikawa is unsure of what he did to make this former angel of a child so irritated at him, but it was getting under his skin. 

After the introductions, Hajime signals for the table to start eating, and eat they do. While still adhering to some table manners, the three guests quickly consume enough food to make up for the last twenty-four hours.

They continue to eat in relative silence, with only a few exceptions. Kyoutani is _exceedingly_ interested in Makki’s daily training as a Great Knight by the way he asks one or two additional questions to find out more about his training regiment. Hajime asks if Shigeru is keeping up with his sword training, only to see the young man’s shoulders tense in expectation of a harsh scolding from his brother. 

Oikawa chuckles at the sheer domesticity of the meal as three additional men approach the table. He recognizes two of them as the magic users from before—Kunimi the healer and Kindaichi. However, there’s a third, shorter man with them that Oikawa has never seen before. 

All color quickly fades from Shigeru’s face as he makes eye contact with the third man. He attempts to fly out of his chair, only to have Hajime’s firm arm keep him in place.

“Yahaba.” The tone in the man’s voice sends shivers up Oikawa’s spine, so he can only _imagine_ how Shigeru feels. “You skipped _not only_ your history lessons, but the guard at the training grounds told me you never showed up for your sparring session? Care to tell me what you were doing?”

“Watari, I was—” Watari’s pointed stare stops Shigeru’s thought immediately. He walks up behind the younger prince and grabs him by the collar of his robes, only to pull him out of his chair and back towards the doorway. 

“No..wait...Shinji, stop! Where are we—”

“The study, because _someone_ thinks he’s above learning about crop patterns and agricultural trade! You’re such a spoiled brat sometimes, Yahaba, I swear.” And just like that, the dining hall is quiet once again.

Mouth open from shock, Oikawa looks to his right to gauge the reaction of his companions, only to find them calmly cleaning their plates.

“Aka-chan, Makki, how are you two not even the slightest bit shocked! Do you have no emotion? No remorse?” 

Makki raises his hand to place a finger on his chin as if to assist in some deep thinking. “Nope, guess not, seeing as we’ve had to do the same thing to you more often than I can count.”

“I resent that!” Oikawa says, hand placed on his chest in disgust at the accusation. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfect angel who _always_ attends to his duties when necessary.”

Akaashi’s eyebrow raises slightly. “You mean like the time you skipped out on mandatory training sessions so you could flit around the town and flirt your way into free clothing and jewels?”

“Or the time you lied and said you finished your reporting when you were really camped out in the kitchen waiting to steal a slice of Goshiki’s birthday cake?” Makki adds.

“Or even the time you tried to lead your horse riding lesson independently and scared four horses to the point that members of the guard had to chase after them on foot?”

Oikawa, getting more and more insulted as the conversation continues, attempts to put a stop to it. “I was a child when all of that happened! I was young and naive and didn’t know my extensive responsibilities!” 

“The horse thing happened last week, Oiks.”

“Makki!”

Hajime takes in the scene with a slight smile on his face, egging Oikawa on for his enjoyment. 

“Now, now, boys, let’s behave at the dinner table. I thought I raised you better than that, Tooru.” 

Everyone at the table stands from their seats at Mari-sama’s entrance. Akaashi, Makki, and Oikawa offer her a slight bow and she waves it off, saying her family does not need to express such formalities, leaving Makki and Akaashi blushing. 

She looks at Oikawa and softly cups his cheek. He leans into the touch, feeling more at ease than he has in days. 

“If you boys will excuse us, my son and I are late for a nice walk in the botanical gardens. They’re lovely this time of year, Tooru, I know you’ll love it.” She grabs his larger hand in her petite one and just as they are about to leave, Hajime calls out to them. 

“Mari-sama, you mustn’t go alone. Please, let me call a few guards to chaperone you. Or even Mattsun—he just returned this morning and I’m sure it would be no issue.” Just as he is about to signal a few guards over to their table, Mari holds up her hand to stop the prince in his tracks. 

She threads her arm through Oikawa’s and starts to lead him towards the door. “Hajime-kun, why would I need guards when my baby boy is one of the most lethal assassins in all of Shiratorizawa, hm?” 

“Wait, Mother...what do you—” Before Oikawa can sputter out the rest of his question, his mother swiftly pulls him along and out the door.

~

The walk to the royal botanical gardens is _not_ what Oikawa expected—primarily due to its relatively public nature. The gardens are situated away from both royal compounds, in a more secluded part of town. Linked arm and arm, Mari and Oikawa opt for a quiet walk around the town square (even though it was Mari’s _very_ forceful suggestion to see the town before nightfall). 

They walk in silence—Oikawa focusing on taking in the scenery around him that is slowly becoming more and more familiar and nostalgic. The spattering of white pine trees lining the path, the sounds of giggling children echoing through the fields, the well-worn paths naturally carved out by generations of travelers.

Before Oikawa can get too lost in the past, Mari tugs on his arm twice, letting him know that they have arrived. He looks up and is left breathless. The botanical gardens are less of a greenhouse of flowers and more of a dreamscape.

The area itself is relatively large, paths following rolling hills down to a still lake in the middle of the grounds. The paths are lined with various species of plants, following no apparent pattern other than what looked the most organic in the spot. Blues, violets, pinks, and oranges blur together—creating a perfect gradient leaving the visitor vying for more. 

Oikawa now leads his mother down his chosen path, weaving through camellia clusters and red spider lilies before plucking a perfect daffodil and handing it to his mother. She accepts the gift openly before placing a kiss on Oikawa’s cheek in thanks. 

Mari only reaches the top of Oikawa’s shoulder, so he has to bend down slightly to accommodate her. He returns to his full height as his mother continues her way down towards the lake. Her teal and white yukata allows her to stick out against the greenery. Long, brunette waves once falling down her back are now secured in an ornate hairstyle decorated with dainty pins. 

Even amongst the perfectly bloomed flowers, Mari’s regal air is magnetic. She helped lead Seijoh through a brutal war so soon after _supposedly_ burying her husband and son. 

Her resilience is remarkable. Oikawa Mari recognizes her role as the cornerstone of the nation but never lets the stress show. Her poise and elegance surpass that of the flora around her, making her the most beautiful flower in the entire garden. 

“Tooru, darling, are you just going to stand there all evening and gawk at the flowers or would you like to join me on my walk?”

He breaks out of his daze to find his mother glancing at him from over her shoulder, eyes glinting with mischief as she slowly moves on without him. 

“Now I see where I get my natural charm and sass,” Oikawa says with a lighthearted smile. Mari chuckles, relinking their arms as they slow down. “You absolutely learned your sass from me, but your charm? That is all from your father.” 

“Tell me about him,” Oikawa requests without a second of pause. 

“Tora had the kindest heart I had ever known. We were childhood sweethearts and you would think that after knowing someone for that long, your feelings would start to plateau.” She looks towards the evening sky and her gaze softens, “but he only made me fall more and more in love with him every day. I thought there would never be another person in my life that I could love as much as your father. Then we had you.”

On reflex, Oikawa reaches for his mother’s hand and squeezes. 

“Tora knew his responsibility was to his country but you, Tooru—you were his priority.”

Pressure builds behind Oikawa’s eyes and chest as he once again attempts to grasp at memories that are not there. 

“Once you were old enough to toddle around the palace, you could be found in either one of two places—playing with Hajime in our bedchambers or sitting on your father’s lap atop his throne while he received visitors.” 

She brings her son’s hand up to her lips and places feather-light kisses all across his palm. “But enough about the past, tell me about you and your friends!”

Oikawa is more than happy to shove his emotions by the wayside and brag about his friends. He briefly touches on how he met Akaashi and Makki all those years ago and _attempts_ to avoid talking about the teasing nature of their friendship, but Mari pulls it out of him anyways. He vents about Shirabu’s incessant fighting with Goshiki over sharing books, about how speaking to Ushiwaka is like speaking to a brick wall, and how the castle never has enough sweets available.

She chuckles lightly, “it seems that despite growing up in a foreign land, you’re still very much _my_ Tooru.”

“Huh? Mother, what do you mean?”

“You still get quite excited whenever you tell stories, darling—you tend to use your hands _much_ more than necessary. And I’m happy to see you never grew out of your sweet tooth but I _do_ wish you grew out of that nasty habit of wanting to stay in your bed all day!”

Tooru pouts as his mother continues to laugh and point out the more childish aspects of his personality. 

They finally approach the central lake, and the view is even more astonishing than Oikawa thought. The still water resembles a looking glass, reflecting the golden sky above them as the scene is framed by the lilac blooms of the surrounding wisteria trees. The scene looks like an oil painting and Oikawa wishes more than anything that he could preserve this moment in time forever.

They walk around the lake, Mari inquiring if Oikawa is eating enough, if he’s continuing with his studies, if he is sleeping through the night (he flinches at the last question). 

His mother notices his hesitation and stops in her tracks, making Oikawa stop to turn and look at her. Mari’s gaze has fallen slightly, her soft smile almost absent from her face.

“Tooru, you are my son—my love, my life, my sun and stars. You must remember that you now are no longer _just_ a son of Seijoh. You are _also_ a son of Shiratorizawa. Your father always said that during times of war, you must _always_ remember your humanity.”

She places her hands on either side of Oikawa’s cheeks, locking their eyes to assure that her son is listening.

“In this war, answers do not lie in the binary. You do not need to pick sides, in fact, it may be wise to refrain from choosing at all.”

She pulls his head down and places one more kiss on his forehead before turning to leave. “Come now, Tooru, there’s a shop in town that sells the best milk bread in the kingdom, but we need to get there before nightfall.”

The golden light of dusk shines through the sky, but Oikawa knows night is steadily approaching. They hastily head back to the town square, both giggling like children with the thought of warm delicacies at the forefront of their minds.

They rush back to Aoba Johsai and Mari takes his hand firmly in hers as she begins to lead him towards her favorite shopkeep. However, just as they pass his father’s fountain, Oikawa catches a particular brunet with an infamous bang standing outside a nearby bookstore. Before Oikawa could take a second glance and confirm his suspicions, his ears are met with the familiar gripes of a young dark mage.

“Shirabu! You can’t just run off like that without your mighty guardian to protect you!” In a poor attempt to prove his point, Goshiki strikes a dramatic pose, only leading to both Shirabu _and_ Oikawa rolling their eyes.

He runs his hand down his face in secondhand embarrassment, drawing his mother’s attention away from the bakery and towards his friends standing across the square. “Oh honey, aren’t those your friends? How nice of them to come down and visit! Why don’t you call them over so you can say hi?”

Oikawa’s cheeks flush with heat. “Mother, no we don’t need—”

“~Yahoo~, Goshiki-kun! Shirabu-kun! Over here!” To spite any attempt to shield himself and his mother, Mari waves her arms around, including her hand still holding her son’s. 

Oikawa see’s Goshiki’s face light up like a candle as he runs towards them, rivers of tears falling from his face as he collides face first into Oikawa’s chest. 

“Oikawa-san,” he says in between sniffles, “I’m so happy you’re safe! Shirabu and Ushijima-sama didn’t believe me when I said you could have been taken captive and turned into a court jester until the end of your days but I said—”

“Now why would _that_ ever happen, Goshiki?” Semi walks up behind the raven-haired mage with Ushijima and Shirabu in tow. Ushijima, impassive as ever, stands behind the group taking in the scene as Shirabu and Semi engage in conversation with Mari.

Oikawa can only stiffen in second-hand embarrassment as his friends exhibit their complete lack of societal awareness. Their distinct Shiratoriawan tunics and trousers paired with their western-style weapons stir up whispers and pointed looks from the townspeople. Mari, however, pays no mind to their attire. 

“You boys must be my son’s friends! I’m his mother, please call me Mari,” she holds out her petite hand to the group, their faces laden with shock. It’s Shirabu that makes the brave move and speaks first. 

“His...mother? It’s um… a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He extends his hand and she grabs it, only to pull him into a tender hug. Shirabu stiffens in confusion before melting into the hug. She lets him go, only to open her arms back up for Goshiki and Semi—obviously catching on to Ushijima’s body language and aversion to touch. 

“Now, boys, why don’t you tell us why you _really_ paid a visit to the great nation of Seijoh, hm?” Her snide smile sends shivers down even _Oikawa’s_ spine. 

“We’re here to collect him after his completed mission, ma’am,” Ushijima says. Ice runs through Oikawa’s veins at the bluntness of Ushijima’s statement. 

_Mother_ must _have assumed the pretense behind my visit to Seijoh, but to say it so bluntly?_

At that moment, Oikawa wanted nothing more than to run with his mother back to the palace and hide. He should have known to not lower his walls for an extended period of time. 

“Ushiwaka-kun, don’t you think that’s a bit...” 

“MARI-SAMA! STEP BACK!” 

Oikawa’s train of thought is derailed by the bombardment of body’s throwing themselves in front of himself and his mother. 

“Iwa-chan,” he squeaks out. “What are you—”

“I _knew_ I should have sent someone with you,” Prince Hajime practically growls. “However, I never would have thought that such _scum_ would be brazen enough to attack Seijoh royalty.”

Hajime steps forward to meet Ushijima in the middle of the square, the sheer authority and dominance resonating from either man almost crippling. Yahaba and Kyoutani appear on either side of their prince, bow and naginata ready. 

“Oikawa-sama! Mari-sama!” Oikawa and Mari are drawn back towards the fountain by Akaashi and Makki, who also have their weapons drawn. “Aka-chan, what’s happening?”

Makki speaks up for the group. “Prince Hajime and Prince Yahaba were getting worried as dusk approached and the two of you still had yet to return. They were practically shaking in their seats with worry, so we decided to come out to search for you all if dusk fell and you hadn’t returned.”

“Hajime, Shigeru, we appreciate the thought but—” Semi interrupts Mari without any remorse as he draws his sword to meet Kyoutani’s naginata. 

“We’re here to bring back our brother in arms, you Seijoh _dregs_. Now do what you always do and turn tail before we have to prove our point.” Semi brandishes his sword, only to have Kyoutani point the tip of his spear at the mercenary’s jugular.

“Oh,” Semi smirks, “looks like the puppy dog’s got some bite. More fun for me.”

_Semi..._

“Don’t tire yourself out, Semi,” Shirabu says as he steps forward into Yahaba’s field of vision, “leave the country bumpkins to Goshiki and I—we can handle them quickly.”

“Country bumpkins? These _so-called_ country bumpkins could wipe you out in sheer minutes if they wanted to. Too bad we’re taking the high road, this time. Now, why don’t you privileged pricks run back to your castle before the _real_ warriors here prove their worth, hm?” Yahaba punctuates his jab with an innocent wink, only infuriating the mage more. 

“Everyone, please lower your weapons.” Oikawa steps forward slightly in a poor attempt to separate the groups to either side of him, but the incessant bickering between the royals drowns him out. 

“Enough.” Mari’s commanding voice breaks through the commotion, drawing everyone’s gaze to their position in front of the fountain. 

Oikawa steels himself before approaching the pseudo-mob once more. “I owe you all an explanation.” 

Just as he is about to explain his entire situation to both the Shiratorizawan and Seijohan royals, Oikawa’s thoughts are derailed once again by someone running towards them in visible distress.

“OIKAWA-SAMA,” Kunimi wails, “WAIT—”

In that moment, time slows to a glacial pace. Kunimi runs forward towards the group, attempting to step in front of the princes, only to fall to the ground just a few feet away. Hajime and Yahaba rush back to check on Kunimi while Kyoutani steps forward, his naginata in a guard position to fend off the Shiratorizawan royals. 

Through the divide between the rival royal families, Oikawa sees a figure, draped in black running towards him. The figure’s magic staff is outstretched before him, the amethyst jewel on the end of the black metal pointing directly at Oikawa’s position in front of the fountain. 

Akaashi and Makki, now somehow positioned on Oikawa’s left and right, rush in towards their friend, looking absolutely petrified. Before Oikawa can fully register the source of their fear, he’s taken aback by a deafening crack of thunder, only to be followed by a familiar flash of purple and black. 

A bolt of dark lightning barrels directly towards him. Yet, even with over a decade’s worth of training and his blood burning like lava, his feet refuse to move from their position. At this point, Oikawa’s ready to accept his demise. He’s avoided death many times in the past, and it seems that his luck finally decided to run out. 

He waits for the inevitable pain to surge through his chest, but it never happens. Oikawa opens his eyes, only to be met with his mother’s face, smoke, and residual lightning still emanating from her back. 

He snaps back to his senses, catching her just in time as she falls to the ground. Oikawa cradles his mother tightly to his chest as the world around him quiets. He vaguely recalls hearing Prince Hajime screaming to apprehend the dark mage who did this, only to find that he had fled. Kunimi lies limp on the ground, a black and purple fog surrounding him. 

Oikawa hugs his mother tighter to his chest, eyes stinging from tears and throat aching from his piercing screams. In this moment, the only person who could possibly comfort him is growing ever limp in his arms. 

Mari somehow breaks through the pain and fatigue to cup her palm to his face once more, leaving Oikawa to nestle into it for comfort one last time. She takes a deep breath before singing her son’s favorite lullaby.

“You are the ocean's gray waves, destined to seek life beyond the shore just out of reach. Yet the waters ever change, flowing like time. The path is yours to climb.

The path you walk on belongs to destiny, just let it flow. All of your joy and your pain will fall like the tide, let it flow. Life is not just filled with happiness or sorrow. 

Even the thorn in your heart, in time it may become a rose. A burdened heart sinks into the ground, a veil falls away without a sound. Not day nor night, wrong nor right. For truth and peace you fight.”

“MOTHER! NO! Please,” Oikawa weeps. “Please, I just returned—you can’t leave me.” 

Tears fall from her dulling eyes and she takes one more, wavering breath. 

“Remember this song, Tooru, remember your home and remember your roots—you’re the key, my sweet boy. But most of all, remember how much your father and I love and treasure you.”

And with that, Oikawa Mari’s eyes close for a final time as her hand falls from her son’s face. Lightning crackles around the family as Oikawa screams to the sky, unclear if he is begging for a miracle or for an answer.

If only to add insult to injury, the black and purple sparks surround Mari’s body before enveloping her completely. Oikawa claws at his mother, trying desperately to keep her with him in some way. Her form slowly evaporates into the ether before their very eyes, with only a small, silver and turquoise pendant left as a token.

Oikawa clutches the necklace to his chest, continually sobbing over the loss of his mother. Akaashi and Makki slowly envelop him in their comforting embrace before chaos breaks out once again in front of them.

“You.” Hajime’s face radiates rage and anguish as he draws his katana from its sheath, blue flames enveloping the blade as he lunges for Ushijima. The Shiratorizawan prince meets the attack, and the two men seem to be met in a draw. Shirabu brings out one of his many tomes from his satchel and begins reciting an incantation, wind picking up around him in preparation for an attack. 

Kyoutani’s and Semi’s blades are drawn and despite the speed of their attacks, it would seem the two men are an even match. Yahaba’s bow is drawn, but he steps back to protect a limp, yet breathing, Kunimi. 

Through the chaos and destruction, Akaashi and Makki rise as Makki brandishes his axe and Akaashi prepares his throwing knives. After seeing such acts of inexcusable violence mere moments after his mother perished protecting him, Oikawa decides he’s had enough.

“You _fools_ ,” he yells. His voice carries through the fighting, finally allowing him to hold the attention of his friends. 

He rises from his perch in front of his father’s fountain and places his mother’s necklace around his neck. “You childish, insolent fools. You continue to fight in a war that has lost its meaning and disrespect the dead by blatantly failing to acknowledge the value of life.”

“Oikawa,” Ushijima starts, his hand extended. “Please, return with us to Shiratorizawa and we will crush the fiends that killed your mother.”

“Ha”, Hajime starts, “as if you don’t already know that Mari-sama’s blood stains Shiratorizawan hands. Tooru is a Prince of Seijoh and he will avenge his family line _with_ his family.”

Bickering fires up once again and Oikawa’s decision has been made.

“You fight and bicker over which side I choose, which nation I want to thrive and which will crumble. You fools speak with your swords and are too naïve to use your patience and words.”

He looks to his left and right at Makki and Akaashi as they nod decisively. 

“You ask me to choose—Shiratorizawa or Seijoh. West or East. Adopted family or blood. Well, my choice is…”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/spoonfuIlofsuga)!


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